


my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

by okaynextcrisis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:07:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaynextcrisis/pseuds/okaynextcrisis
Summary: Neither of them return from Melida/Daan unscathed
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Tahl (Star Wars)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8
Collections: Qui-Gon/Tahl Challenge





	my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

**Author's Note:**

> Is the title emo enough? (Thanks again Taylor for the borrow.) I’m personally emo bc I’m posting this at 4 am from work...

They don’t talk about it, either of them. 

In the dark hours and days that follow their return from  _ that planet  _ (neither of them uttering the name, preferring oblique references to an act that might summon that bleak, frigid wasteland to the present moment) they huddle together, both joined and separated by their grief. 

Qui-Gon sleeps in a chair by Tahl’s bed in the Healer’s ward, heedless of the raised eyebrows and sidelong glances of the apprentices. He couldn’t save her sight, couldn’t spare her the brutal cut to her beautiful face; the least he can do is safeguard her from nightmares. 

And truth be told, he’d rather not sleep alone. 

If Tahl struggles with her loss of sight, Qui-Gon knows she won’t let anyone see it. And in those moments when the pain barely, briefly, surfaces….when she wakes and flutters her eyes open, seeking something other than darkness—he averts his own gaze, and pretends not to see. 

“I’m not taking you home with me,” she says tartly. 

Her tone might be sharper than usual, but the words are a familiar old game. He falls into their easy pattern with something precariously close to gratitude. 

“I wouldn’t presume to impose on your hospitality,” he says. “Should such a thing prove to exist.”

“I wouldn’t expect someone who once brought home a wasp worm nest to understand the boundaries of common sense.”

“I’ve had worse house guests,” he says without thinking, until a sly smile and a ginger braid intrude, again, on his consciousness. 

“I would personally take the stinging insects over Dooku,” Tahl offers, a beat too quickly. 

He tries to smile, then remembers she can’t see it. “From what I heard of your mission together, the feeling was mutual.”

Tahl raises her chin. “It was a valuable learning experience for us both,” she informs him. “I learned that he has no sense of humor, and he learned that nineteen hours in an escape pod is altogether too much togetherness.”

“Indeed.” He inclines his head, conceding the point. “Was it immediately after that experience that he resigned his seat on the Council in favor of an extended meditation retreat, or did he wait a day or two?”

Despite the scar stretching across her cheekbone and curling around her jaw, her half smile is achingly, exactly the same. “I helped him draft his resignation letter on the way home.”

Despite the weight on his chest, the tightness in his throat, he can’t help the small smile that breaks free. “You’ve always been too generous.”


End file.
